


Scenes of Unimportance (Like Photos in a Frame)

by equivocalEternity



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Good ending timeline, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mnemosurgery (Transformers), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, References to Addiction, Tags May Change, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equivocalEternity/pseuds/equivocalEternity
Summary: Brainstorm’s been working on a new invention for Chromedome, and he wants to show Rewind first. It goes well, until it doesn’t.
Relationships: Brainstorm & Chromedome (Transformers), Brainstorm & Rewind (Transformers), Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Scenes of Unimportance (Like Photos in a Frame)

“Perfect, you’re here!” Brainstorm ushers Rewind inside his room. “You made sure Chromedome doesn’t know about this, right?”

“Yes,” Rewind says, for the umpteenth time, as he looks around the room. He can barely see anything. All the lights are off, and the door is closed. He turns his camera on anyway. “But I really don’t appreciate being asked to keep secrets from him, you know. Why did you even call me here?”

“It’s a surprise,” Brainstorm says. “You’re going to love it, I promise. At least, I’m pretty sure you are. Like, seventy percent certain, you’re probably definitely going to love it.”

“See, you’re saying that to be reassuring, but it’s not working. I’m just _more_ nervous,” Rewind says. “Nothing’s going to blow up, is it?”

“Swear on my spark, absolutely no explosions.”

“Mmhmm.” Rewind sighs. He likes Brainstorm, he does, but he’s never met anyone who’s quite so good at inviting disaster. “Well, let’s see it, then. What’s your big surprise?”

“Tadah!” Brainstorm turns on all the lights with a flourish. 

Rewind squints against the sudden glare of the lights. He’s never actually been in Brainstorm’s room before, though in his defense, Brainstorm’s rarely in it either. He’s usually in the lab. There’s been stricter rules set in place after the whole time travel ordeal, but Rewind heavily doubts Brainstorm actually follows any of them. 

Considering one of the rules is “no inventing outside the lab”, and Rewind is currently looking at an invention very much outside the lab, he thinks it’s a safe assumption to make.

“It’s...impressive looking,” Rewind says, but it’s a lie. It’s just a giant screen, with a control panel at the side. Still, looks can be deceiving, especially with Brainstorm. The briefcase was more than proof enough of that.

“Oh, ho ho, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Brainstorm says. He walks over to the control panel and bends down, pulling out a thick cable from the base. 

“What’s it do?” It’s not that he doesn’t trust Brainstorm, of course, he just...doesn’t always trust his judgement. The cable has _pointy bits_ at the end.

“I’m glad you asked,” Brainstorm says, and plugs it into the back of his head.

Rewind jumps. “Brainstorm! Is that _safe?”_

“Don’t worry, I did extensive testing before I called you here, and so far I haven’t died!”

“You have no idea how little that fills me with confidence,” Rewind says faintly.

“Relax, it’s almost definitely perfectly harmless,” Brainstorm says. “Probably. Now let’s get this show on the road!”

He takes a remote out of his subspace, lifts it over his head dramatically, and presses a button. The lights dim, and the screen turns on with a flash of static. A video starts playing—it’s Brainstorm and Rewind, in a hallway outside a room.

 _“Perfect, you’re here!”_ The Brainstorm in the video says. He gestures for the Rewind to enter. _“You made sure Chromedome doesn’t know about this, right?”_

“Wait, but that _just_ happened,” Rewind says.

“It most certainly did,” Brainstorm says, beaming.

“You weren’t recording it, were you?”

“Nope! Just in here,” Brainstorm says, and taps his head.

Onscreen, Brainstorm turns on the lights.

“This...this is a memory,” Rewind says.

“Got it in one,” Brainstorm says.

“How is that possible? It’s not even from your point of view,” Rewind says.

It isn’t; both he and Rewind are shown in profile, as if they were being filmed from the doorway. It’s weird to see himself like that. He’s used to being the one filming.

“Oh, that’s just the work of a little cleverly applied genius,” Brainstorm says, ever the picture of modesty. “It takes my mental image of the setting, and of myself, and recreates the memory with them in a third person view. It shouldn’t affect the accuracy, since it’s still drawing from what you remember.”

 _“You have no idea how little that fills me with confidence,”_ Rewind says in the video.

“Brainstorm, this is _incredible,”_ Rewind says.

Brainstorm preens. “Why, thank you,” he says, and presses a button. 

The scene fades out. Faint figures start drifting across the screen, never staying longer than a few moments. Rewind thinks he can make out a familiar face here and there, but it feels rude to look at it for too long. Even his nosiness has limits. He turns to Brainstorm.

“Can you watch any memory with this?”

“Well, hypothetically, but you know what I always say about hypotheticals.”

“I...don’t know, actually,” Rewind says. “Do you really have a saying for them?”

“If you keep your hypothesis hypothetical you’re a loser,” Brainstorm says. “Theories are meant to be tested!”

Rewind has a theory that sayings like that are why Brainstorm gets himself blown up so often.

“How long have you been working on this?” Rewind asks.

Chromedome had mentioned Brainstorm’s been a bit reclusive lately, but Rewind hadn’t thought anything of it. Brainstorm’s mellower now than he was before the time travel incident, so Rewind had just assumed he was more of an introvert than he had let on.

“I’ve been tossing the idea around for a while, but I never had the time to do anything with it until now.”

“Well, I’m glad you got around to it!” Rewind is _so excited_ about this. Just imagining all that could be learned with this sort of technology makes him want to sing. But he does have to wonder— “Why keep this from Chromedome, though?”

“Ah. I’m glad you asked that, too.” Brainstorm takes a deep breath. He shifts from relaxed to serious so fast it almost gives Rewind whiplash. “So. Chromedome’s going to inject again.”

“What—no, he isn’t!” Rewind stares at Brainstorm in shock. “He promised he’d stop, and he has. He doesn’t even have the needles anymore!”

“I know,” Brainstorm says. “And I believe he meant it, I really do. But we both know that addictions can’t be promised away.”

“So, what, “Rewind says. “You’re just going to write him off as a—a lost cause?” Rewind can’t believe him. Brainstorm has the audacity to call himself Chromedome’s best friend, and then turn around and say things like _this?_

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Brainstorm says. “I absolutely believe he could really beat it this time, but—look. How many times have we needed mnemosurgery?”

Rewind pauses. “What do you mean?”

“I hate seeing him inject just as much as you do, but sometimes—sometimes we _need_ his abilities, and you know he can’t resist if there’s enough pressure on him to do it. I hope to Primus we won’t ever need it again, but—I don’t want to take that chance.”

Rewind gestures at the screen. “So this…”

Brainstorm nods. “This is an alternative. No risk to the mnemosurgeon if there’s no mnemosurgeon at all, right? It completely takes him out of the equation. This is still just a prototype, but I wanted to get your...blessing, I suppose, before I told Chromedome.” He looks almost shy. “What do you think, is it—good?”

 _“Good?_ Brainstorm,” Rewind says, with an incredulous laugh, “I could _kiss_ you!”

But Brainstorm isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at Chromedome, who’s standing in the doorway. 

“Uh, hi,” he says, and looks between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Um,” Brainstorm replies.

The screen lights up.

They all turn to look at it. It’s a memory of Chromedome, this time. Brainstorm’s watching from the doorway as Chromedome puts things in boxes. He only has one arm. Rewind doesn’t remember Chromedome ever losing—

“Oh,” says Chromedome.

Brainstorm fumbles with the remote. It takes him a few tries to get it right way up, but just as the memory-Brainstorm starts to speak he presses a button and the memory changes.

It’s Chromedome again. This time he’s walking down an unfamiliar hall. There’s a certain determination in his stride, but he looks hollow, like that determination is the only thing keeping his frame from collapsing in on itself.

 _“Chromedome, please, don’t do this,”_ Brainstorm says from behind him. _“I know—“_

Brainstorm pushes the button again.

Chromedome’s sitting at a desk, staring at his hands. Brainstorm paces behind him. 

_“I’m really worried about you,”_ Brainstorm says. _“You haven’t left the room in—“_

Brainstorm starts mashing at the button frantically. 

_“—with my own gun! Really, Chromedome? That’s—that’s just cruel. You’d make me have to live with that?”_

_“—hey, do you know where I put my...Chromedome? Oh, no, no, not again, Chromedome—“_

_“—fine, Brainstorm, you don’t need to keep hovering. I’m not going to do anything—“_

_“—again? Chromedome, how could you—“_

_“—I swear you’ll feel better if you just—“_

_“—and sometimes I wonder if there’s even any—“_

_“—no, no, no, no, please don’t—“_

_Crack._ The remote starts smoking slightly. Brainstorm tosses it aside and runs to the control panel by the screen. He starts pounding at the buttons, no rhyme or reason to it. The memories go by faster, now, just quick flashes, barely there before they’re gone.

There’s Chromedome curled up on a recharge slab—

Chromedome clutching at Brainstorm and trembling—

Chromedome knocking Brainstorm’s hand away—

Chromedome slumped against a wall with his needles in his optics—

Brainstorm pulls a gun out of his subspace and shoots the screen.

 _That_ gets the memories to stop. The screen goes dark in a hail of shattered glass. Brainstorm slowly lowers the gun. He’s breathing heavily, like he just came off a battlefield.

For a long second, no one moves.

Then Brainstorm drops the gun and claps his hands together. It’s deafening in the silence. “Note to self,” he says, casually, “It needs a little finetuning.”

“Brainstorm,” Chromedome says. “What _was_ that?“

The screen crackles feebly to life, and Rewind can just make out Chromedome huddled on the floor and Brainstorm kneeling at his side through the cracks and the static before Brainstorm takes the cable and _yanks_ it out of his head.

“Brainstorm!” Rewind gasps.

Brainstorm nearly keels over, but he catches his balance before Rewind or Chromedome can steady him. He straightens up sharply. His eyes are sparking.

“Well, I should be going now,” Brainstorm says. “Lots to do, and all that. See you later, or maybe not, you know how it is, I’m a busy guy. Bye!”

He turns on his heel just a bit too fast and starts marching out of the room.

“Wait!” Chromedome catches him by the arm.

Brainstorm _shudders,_ like the touch physically hurts him. He turns around with all the weight of someone seeing their executioner. But his expression is what really gets Rewind. He doesn’t look guilty, or embarrassed. He doesn’t even look overwhelmed. He just looks...sad.

“What, Domey,” Brainstorm says.

“I—what just happened? What did we just see? The first part, I know what that was, but I don’t remember any of the rest of it. Some of it looked like the New Institute, but I don’t—you said—I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I remember it?”

Brainstorm sighs. He sounds tired. “Why do you _think,_ Chromedome?” He lifts his hand and waggles his fingers, then winces. “Sorry, that was—out of line. It was at the New Institute, yeah, most of it. Hey, remember when we roomed together? Drove everyone else nuts.”

Chromedome shakes his head helplessly. “How could I forget that much? Why would I—why would I _do that?”_

“Domey,” Rewind says softly.

Brainstorm snorts. “I don’t know, because you were miserable? Because it felt better in the short term? Because you didn’t want to remember all those times I got in the way of you offing yourself?” He throws his hands in the air. “Who knows!”

Chromedome flinches like he’s been hit. “Stormy, I—”

“Pick a reason, any reason!” Brainstorm’s voice rises unsteadily. “Why’s Chromedome forgotten something _this_ time? It’s a mystery for the ages!”

“Brainstorm,” Chromedome says. “Brainstorm, I’m so _sorry.”_

Brainstorm drops his hands and rubs at his optics. “No, no, I shouldn’t be yelling. It’s...listen, it might not even have all been you. You know what Trepan was like, I wouldn’t put it past him, to take stuff in the name of, I don’t know, increasing efficiency, or whatever.”

“What?” Chromedome shakes his head. “Trepan wouldn’t have—he didn’t do that sort of thing to us.”

“You don’t remember?” Brainstorm laughs. It’s an odd, hollow sound. “No, of course you wouldn’t. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Brainstorm,” Rewind says. “I…”

Brainstorm turns to him, but Rewind just stares at him. He can’t think of anything else to say. 

“It’s fine,” Brainstorm says, after a moment. “Really. I should...I should go.”

This time, neither of them stop him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Second Home By the Sea by Genesis.  
> I’m not the best at replying to comments sometimes, so please don't feel obligated, but also if you do leave a comment know that it means the world to me even if I never reply. You can find me on tumblr from my main, [@quadrilioquy,](https://quadrilioquy.tumblr.com/) or my writing sideblog, [@equivocaleternity.](https://equivocaleternity.tumblr.com/)


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